


Wet the Bed

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Kink Exploration, M/M, Urination, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He’s not naïve, he knows some people are into that sort of thing, but it’d never occurred to him as something he’d want to try. He doesn’t even know why he’s so surprised that Harry’s into it; Harry’s filthy and up to try anything once, twice if the results of the first time were inconclusive. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet the Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by late night chats with bad influences. Please don't ignore the tags, if watersports isn't your cup of tea, you really shouldn't read this!

Harry’s the most dick-obsessed person Zayn’s ever met, which says a lot when you’re best friends with Louis Tomlinson who’ll scribble badly drawn penises on the closest available surface if left to his own devices with a permanent marker. He’s also the type of bloke you dread eating a hotdog or banana around because he’ll fire off joke after obvious joke that everyone still finds hilarious because the lads all love a good dick joke, the more immature, the better. Zayn doesn’t think they’ll ever grow out of that.

But Harry’s dick-obsessed in a different way, in the kind of way that actually gets Zayn off. Harry’s always got dick on the brain: whenever he’s eating a banana, which is entirely too often, he’s always challenging himself to see how deep he can take it without chewing, hollowing his cheeks and focusing like it’s more blowjob practice than healthy midday snack; he’ll change your Facebook status to be about ‘willies’ if he gets his hand on your phone whilst your back’s turned; will Instagram phallic looking things with a cheeky caption like his followers needed help figuring out what he’s getting at; in the way he can’t keep his hands off Zayn’s cock even when they’re not alone, his hand shoved down the front of Zayn’s jeans when they’re watching _X Factor_ and eating barbecue at Niall’s, palming Zayn through his boxers until Zayn’s hard and Harry’s squeezing up and down the shape of it and Niall’s going, ‘Jesus Christ, not on my fucking couch.’ 

So Zayn’s not really surprised that Harry’s watching him right now, hip propped up against the sink and a pink toothbrush hanging slack in his foamy-toothpaste-and-spit-rimmed mouth as Zayn pulls his cock out through the flap of his pyjama bottoms, hovering over the toilet because he couldn’t wait until Harry was out. He’d had a large mug of tea before bed and his bladder’s about to explode. 

‘You going to watch me?’ 

Harry shrugs, ‘Maybe. I was here first.’ His eyes are on Zayn’s fingers where they’re loosely curled around his prick. ‘Why, are you pee shy or something?’ 

Zayn shrugs back. He’s really not, and even if he were, he’d got over that sort of thing quite quickly; living with two little sisters means all sorts of embarrassing things happen to you, and then being surrounded by four rambunctious twats took care of the rest, especially since they’d got used to the days of pulling off the road between rest stops if someone, usually Niall if fingers must be pointed, clogged the toilet on the bus. Liam’s still got tonnes of videos on his phone of that time they’d all felt drunk and invincible and decided they _had_ to piss off a penthouse balcony. Louis likes to refer to that night as the Death of Sensible Liam. 

So Zayn lets his eyes close as his head falls back, because he’s one of those blokes who enjoys a good, relieving trip to the loo, relaxing into it and just letting go even though he can feel the familiar weight of Harry’s greedy dick-hungry stare. It’s quiet in Harry’s big empty house, so all he can hear is the steady stream of his piss splashing into the toilet. 

He startles when he feels Harry’s body warm against his back, big hands and long fingers covering his own as Harry tucks his chin over Zayn’s shoulder, watching Zayn’s cock and the arc of piss coming out of it. Zayn’s quite certain he’s gone and made a mess of the toilet seat and his borrowed pyjamas now, but he thinks Harry deserves it for being a creep. 

‘You’re getting hard,’ Harry says, curly hair catching on the stubble on Zayn’s jaw as he tries to get an even closer look. 

‘Natural reaction to you holding my dick.’

‘Oh, I like that.’ 

‘Like watching me piss, too, unless that’s a gun in your pocket.’ 

‘Maybe,’ is all Harry says, but it gives way to a disappointed little noise as Zayn trickles to a stop. 

‘Afraid that’s all for now, babe,’ Zayn says, rolling his eyes and laughing as Harry controls the pace of his shake-off, spattering more piss all over the place. 

‘Lame,’ Harry says, leaning in for a kiss before going back to the sink to wash his hands. ‘What do you want for breakfast? I’ve got coffee now, that really expensive gourmet stuff Niall practically lives off. You like that too, right?’ 

*

Things go back to ‘normal’ almost immediately after the whole Harry-watching-Zayn-take-his-morning piss incident. Zayn pretty much forgets about it, adds it to the endless examples he’s catalogued in his head of Harry being a dick-obsessed weirdo before carrying on smartly because that sort of thing happens entirely too often to keep track of. 

Harry’d even sucked him off at the breakfast table after it’d happened, which Zayn remembers more vividly than he does the peeing thing because Harry’d let him come on his face and then made him fluffy chocolate chip pancakes in nothing but a Green Bay Packers apron. It’d been the best morning Zayn’d had in a while, so happy and loved up that he had to crack a window open and smoke to keep himself from getting clingy and stupid and curling tightly around Harry until burnt pancakes set the smoke alarm off.

But it sort of comes up again the next time Zayn comes round to spend the weekend with Harry. They’re in Harry’s bed, naked and kissing, Zayn practically tangled up in Harry’s long legs as Harry desperately grinds his hips up, trying to rub his cock against Zayn’s. He’s not really doing such a good job of that, or maybe he is, but all Zayn can focus on is the building pressure Harry’s rutting is causing against his bladder. 

Harry doesn’t look very impressed when Zayn says so, ‘You need to go _now_? Come on, it was just starting to get good.’

‘I’ll be quick. Haven’t fucked you in a while,’ Zayn says, kissing Harry’s tattooed collarbone. ‘You won’t be walking right tomorrow, promise.’ 

Harry tightens his thighs around Zayn’s hips, keeping Zayn where he wants him. ‘No,’ he says, and Zayn swears he looks exactly like he had in petulant baby photos the lads had all had a laugh at as they went through Harry’s family albums. Harry can be such a bratty little shit at times, using his pouty mouth for evil. 

‘I’ll be back soon. C’mon, Harry.’ 

‘No,’ Harry says again, and the way he squeezes his thighs around Zayn almost makes him wet himself. 

‘You’re being a prick. What, you want to watch again or something?’ Zayn doesn’t even know what makes him say that, he’d forgot all about that. But the momentary annoyance that’s been tightening in his chest loosens when Harry lets out a breathy moan, reaching between them to pull at Zayn’s cock. 

‘You like that? Watching me—really?’ Zayn’d been soft, but he’s getting hard again now, which feels quite weird, honestly, when you’re this close to pissing yourself. He’s not naïve, he knows some people are into that sort of thing, but it’d never occurred to him as something he’d want to try. He doesn’t even know why he’s so surprised that Harry’s into it; Harry’s filthy and up to try anything once, twice if the results of the first time were inconclusive. 

Harry nods, letting his thighs fall around Zayn’s hips like he knows Zayn won’t try to get away now. ‘Yeah,’ he licks his lips, ‘would be even hotter if you pissed on me. I’ve been thinking about that.’

‘Here?’ Zayn realises he’s agreeing to this without even thinking about it. He’s beginning to think Harry could make him walk off a cliff at this point. 

‘Yeah, whatever, I’ll Google how to clean it up after,’ Harry says like that’s what’s wrong with this, although the more Zayn thinks about it, the less wrong things he can come up with. 

‘You’re sure you want to do this now?’

Harry’s looking into Zayn’s eyes, and his eyes are glassy and earnest. ‘Yeah, really want to. If you don’t we can forget about it. Not gonna force you.’ 

‘Nah, it’s cool,’ Zayn says, a little bit winded because he can’t believe this is happening. He can’t even believe he’s actually into this. ‘Do I just—go?’

‘Hold on,’ Harry says, wriggling so that he’s higher up on the bed, feet planted on the mattress so his legs are spread wide and Zayn’s got the perfect view of his hard cock and lean body. ‘Do it wherever you want.’ 

Zayn’s almost lightheaded at how turned on Harry saying that makes him. He gets up on his knees, holding his cock and trying to calm himself a bit. Pissing with a hard-on’s not the most comfortable thing in the world; he’d learnt that much when he was stuck in Bradford with his right hand and crippling shyness, but it’s not impossible. 

‘You’re sure about this?’ he asks again. 

‘Zaaaaayyyynnn,’ Harry whines, reaching down to stroke his own cock. ‘Stop thinking so much and just do it.’ 

So Zayn does, gasping when the first burst of it comes out and wets the butterfly on Harry’s ribcage, running down his belly and pooling in the curve of his pelvis. ‘Pull your leg up,’ Zayn finds himself saying, and Harry quickly does as told, leaving _everything _vulnerable and visible.__

__Harry lets out something like a purr when Zayn pisses right on his cock, getting it wet and dampening his pubic hair, trickling down his balls, his hand speeding up like he’s using it as lube, and fuck, that’s just something else._ _

__‘You’re so, wow, Harry,’ Zayn says around the lump in his throat, voice gone rough._ _

__‘Mhmm,’ Harry moans, inner thighs trembling as Zayn’s thumb presses into the cleft of his arse, holding him open so Zayn can piss on his arsehole, clenching and so pink that Zayn just wants to slide between Harry’s legs and taste himself down there, but he’s not so sure he’s ready to have his own piss in his mouth, licked right from Harry’s arse crack at that._ _

__‘Jesus, I’m gonna come,’ Harry pulls Zayn down for a kiss, sucking desperately on Zayn’s tongue as Zayn trickles to a stop between them, getting the last drops onto Harry’s belly as Harry comes, making even more of a mess of himself with thick globs of spunk._ _

__‘I love you so much, can’t believe you did that,’ Harry laughs breathlessly, going boneless against the wet sheets._ _

__‘Can’t believe I did it either,’ Zayn says, moving to straddle Harry’s chest, rubbing the damp head of his cock against Harry’s slick bottom lip. ‘Gonna suck this for me?’_ _

__Harry nods, and Zayn braces himself against the headboard, one hand buried in Harry’s curls as he fucks his mouth as hard as he wants. Harry’s good at this, can take whatever Zayn throws him. Zayn thinks all the practicing with bananas has had its benefits._ _

__It doesn’t take long for him to get close, and when he does, he pulls out with a wet slide, making sure he comes all over Harry’s neck and half-open mouth because now that he knows how much of a mess Harry can be, he just wants to ruin him everywhere._ _

__‘You’re really leaving me to do this by myself?’ Harry looks up from his phone where he’s entering ‘how to clean wet mattress urine’ in Safari’s URL bar. He’s naked, hair still wet from the shower._ _

__Zayn shrugs, slipping into the trackies he’d been wearing earlier. ‘You’re the one who wanted to do all this R Kelly shit. I’m knackered, think I’m going to lie on the sofa for a bit.’_ _

__He narrowly avoids getting hit in the face with the wet, balled up sheets. But when he wakes up, it’s to a mouthful of curly hair with a long leg awkwardly thrown over his hip. He pulls Harry in tighter and goes back to sleep, thinking he’ll pull together something Harry really likes for lunch to make up for being a bit of a dick._ _


End file.
